Stephano
by HazelEyedLeah
Summary: Before he was ever Stephano, what was going through the little golden statue's mind? Stephano's POV before he was found by Pewdie. (I'm horrible at summaries, sorry! I promise, it gets better!)


_A/N: Hey, readers and writers of FanFic! This is my first story I've put on here (Or rather, the first story I've liked enough to put on here), so be kind to my fragile little writer soul! XD And if the format looks off, it's because I have NO CLUE what I'm doing! Anyways, you didn't come on here to hear about me, SO LET'S READ SOME PEWDIE(Errr... Stephano) FANFIC! Enjoy!_

OOooOOooOOooOOooOO

The silence didn't really bother me anymore. Silence was certainly preferable to the alternative. It used to be deafening. Now? It almost felt comforting. Safe. Cozy. The same with the flickering torchlight. The jumping shadows used to haunt me. Now they seemed as familiar as old friends.

I tried shifting to a more comfortable position, once again hit with the fact I was stuck. Cursed to be more accurate. Once a favored guard, I was now cursed with immobility. Forced to stand by and watch the horrors that filled this place without being able to do anything to help. I shivered internally at the things I had seen and heard. The ones unfortunate enough to get trapped in the place never made it out. Some collapsed under insanity; others were killed, tortured really, by the ever present monsters; and some, unable to handle it, took their own life.

Being calloused was the only way I could keep my head. And it almost came naturally now. I had lost track of how long I had sat here, forgotten. I could not even remember my own name; it had been so long a time. The windowless room that had become my prison within a prison gave no indication of time. The only thing that remotely gave me any idea of the passage of time being the monstrous noises that came out at night.

I sighed mentally, as my voice had become almost nonexistent from disuse. Time seemed to pass quicker when I didn't think at all. I thought back to the last time I had actually thought. I would guess it to be years ago. Yes, it was the last time there was someone trapped here. They had ended up in this very room. Chills rolled down my rigid spine. There had been so much blood... I closed my eyes and checked myself - pushing those thoughts into a corner.

The sound of a rattling chain and limping footsteps outside the door caught my attention. They seemed to be out earlier than usual today. How strange. I wonder why...?

A strangled scream pierced the air and gave me the answer to my question. Ah, they were lured out with fresh meat. I hoped that this one's death was quick and painless. However morbid that may sound, I hoped it true.

I listened for the telltale sounds of death. Snapping, cracking, screaming, groaning, ripping, gurgling, or hissing; or any combination of them. I listened, but I only heard banging around and muffled yelling. Ah, a fighter, maybe this one will have a chance...!

I tamped down my hope. Hope, I had found, got me nowhere. It only led to disappointment. The banging and shouting quieted, and I strained to hear more. The faint slap of running footsteps and panting started to get louder until it was right outside my door.

I heard some mumbling, and the door was flung open, startling me. I looked closely at the man that stepped inside, but the lantern he was carrying left his face in almost complete shadow. I was, however, able to catch symptoms of insanity: sweating, shaky hands, full body trembling, and loss of balance. But I could tell he was strong, as he was able to hold the complete effect of the insanity at bay. He quietly shut the door, and I watched as he quickly, but efficiently searched through a desk for things he considered useful.

I kept quiet, partially from not wanting to scare the young man, and partially from not having a working voice at the moment. He began to mutter to himself, whether it was from the insanity or just wanting to hear a human voice, I couldn't tell. It seemed more nervous habit than anything.

He finished his search of the drawers and swung his light toward my perch, coming closer and lifting his lantern to get a better look. It was very strange, no one had ever noticed me before, and I took the chance to study his face. A strong chin, wild hair, eyes that seemed scared and troubled, and his jaw was set in determination that seemed put on for his own sake.

I felt a pang, knowing he was alone and frightened, and just needed someone. I tried talking, but my jaw was stiff with disuse. If he stayed in the room for a minute or two, maybe I could get some sort of noise out. I worked at loosening my jaw and clearing my throat to clear out the cobwebs. I wanted to talk to him. To tell him it would be okay. I knew it was ridiculous, but I felt a strong need to protect this young man; even stooping to pretending.

He graced me with a sad smile, causing me to blink in confusion. Did he know of my curse? Would he help me? Could I possibly get out of this infernal statue and back to normal life? Would I be able to even go back to normal life? I couldn't even remember my own name. I'd tell the man a name if I could remember one. I tried talking again, but all I got out was a small, almost imperceptible squeak. That wasn't very comforting or manly, so I stopped there.

He was silent for a minute just looking at me. The small smile appeared again, and he picked me up carefully. Now I really wished I had a voice and could tell him that I was alive and wanted to help. My lack of name, which hadn't bothered me for decades, I now felt the lack of acutely. He turned with me still cradled in his hands and walked toward the door.

I resigned myself to being a small, nameless, voiceless statue that the man was bringing with him as a comfort, when the man's next words caused my heart to leap.

"I think I'll call you... Stephano."

I again dared to hope that everything would turn out all right. And I needed to be flippant to forget the past, and the strong one for the scared man to relax. "Ellos, I am Stephano," I said, my voice coming out gravelly and heavily accented from all the decades of disuse, "I was cursed to sit here as a statue, but it's cool," I said, waving it off as unimportant.

The man smiled brightly at me, making the silence, the horrible noises, even the death, flow from the forefront of my mind.

"Alright Stephano, let's go. It's just you and me, buddy. It's just you and me."


End file.
